Bohemian Rhapsody
by MaiaMadness
Summary: Momma, I just killed a man. A story of Draco malfoy, loosely inspired by Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. Post HBP. Slash. Anywhere the Wind Blows... Please review.


**Author's Note:** This story is loosely inspired by Queen's wonderful song, Bohemian Rhapsody. If you haven't heard this song: What the hell kinda upbringing did you have? Well, no matter. If you by any sort of chance don't know what this song is about, download it.

In this tale I have tried to mix three of my favourite things: Harry Potter, Slash and Queen. And in its way, I guess you could call this my little tribute to Freddy Mercury, the greatest Rock singer who ever lived.

This story contains elements of Slash, meaning male/male relationship. If this offends you in any way, I don't like you and you may leave. I won't apologise for writing about the most natural thing in the world, so there.

I also hope I have succeeded in adding as few clichés as possible to this thing. Enjoy!

MaiaMadness

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_**Bohemian Rhapsody**_

Draco Malfoy let his wand hand drop to his side as he looked down at the body on the floor. The man was around 20. It was the first time Draco had killed someone. It was not the person he had been sent to kill. This man was a fellow Death Eater, and somebody he had gone to school with. Somebody he had shared a common room with, and spoken to on several occasions. This man had been sent with him to make sure the job was done. And now he was dead.

There would be no way out of this one. Draco pocketed his wand, turned around and left. It would not take long before other Death Eaters learned what had happened, and then they would come for him, to kill him. It was not so much that it mattered to Draco whether he lived or died – sometimes he really thought it would be better if he had never been born – but it would to his mother. She had already lost a husband; it would be unfair to have her lose her only son.

As soon as he had gone a bit away from the corpse, Draco disapparated. He reappeared near a rather small muggle village. It was around 10 o'clock on a Thursday night. He made his way to the village's only pub, which also appeared to serve as an inn.

When he stepped inside, he found the pub quite full. A few people looked up at the new arrival, but Draco did not meet their glances and after a while they got bored with staring. He stepped up to the bar.

"Some whiskey please," he said, sitting down on one of the stools. The barkeep looked him up and down.

"Could I see some ID?" he asked.

"The strongest you have," said Draco, flicking his wand unnoticeably under the counter, wordlessly pronouncing an incantation.

"Of course," said the barkeep at once, turning around to attend to the task. Draco glanced out the window at the late October night. The sky was utterly black. Suited his mood, he thought, as the barkeep put a glass of whiskey under his nose. He sipped it carefully. It did not quite have the punch of the Firewhiskey he was used to, but it would do to get him drunk. He glanced out the window again when he noticed the familiar profile of the person sitting by a table in the foreground.

He was a young man around the same age as him, and he was moodily sipping muggle beer. His name was Harry Potter.

Draco was afraid at first. He considered fleeing, apparating to somewhere else. But what would the other do, kill him? Harry Potter, kill him? And in a pub filled with muggles? It would never happen. And he had nothing to lose anymore.

He picked up his glass and went over to the boy, who looked up upon his approach. Harry Potter's green eyes were first filled with shock, but then they darkened.

"Draco Malfoy!" he spat, instinctively reaching for his wand.

"Why, Potter," Draco drawled, "you shouldn't draw that thing in a place filled with muggles, should you?"

"Why?" growled Potter. "You'd have no qualms about it. You'd kill me on the spot."

"Not tonight, Potter," Draco sighed, sitting down opposite him. Potter frowned at the resigned look on his face.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, but some of the fire had left his voice. "I don't remember inviting you to sit down."

"You didn't," said Draco simply, taking another sip of his whiskey. "I propose a truce tonight, Potter," he said, looking into the other's eyes. "I feel no need to fight with you, and you too look like you could use the company."

Potter was still frowning. "What are you doing away from Hogwarts anyway?" he asked.

"Same thing you are, most likely," Draco replied. "Different side, though." He downed the rest of his whiskey, feeling it trickle down his throat. "He nearly killed me, you know. After I failed. But in the end Snape convinced him not to."

"And you're telling me this because…?" said Potter, cocking an eyebrow.

"Like I said, truce," said Draco. "I show you mine, you show me yours. If I tell you my story, you'll trust me enough to tell me your story."

"Why should I trust you?" Potter snapped, back in defensive mode. "You're a Death Eater!"

"Not if I can help it," Draco muttered under his breath. "Barkeep, another whiskey!" he said, turning his face towards the bar. The barkeep nodded. Draco turned to Potter again. "So, what about you? How did you end up here?" he asked.

"Traveling," said Potter, taking another sip of his beer. "Just staying here for the night. I have things to do which I must do alone. I would have had someone to help me out, but I don't anymore. You sort of saw to that…" He trailed off and looked out the window.

A waitress set down another glass of whiskey in front of Draco. He lifted it to his lips while he contemplated Potter's words. In the end he met his eyes. "Sorry," he said, before taking a sip.

Potter stared at him in disbelief. "Not turning over a new leaf, are you Malfoy?" he said stunned.

"No," said Draco, averting his eyes again. "I'm not sitting here drinking with you because I like you. You're a better companion than these muggles, though… This is one night only. A one-night truce. Hah, if they find out I shared a drink with Harry Potter without killing him…" He chucked briefly. "I won't be going back to them," he said, looking serious again. "But nobody leaves the Dark Lord unpunished…" Potter searched his face.

"What did you do?" he asked, but Draco only looked away and shook his head.

"Let's not," he said. "Let's not tell each other everything. You keep your secrets and I'll keep mine." He looked Potter in the eyes again. "It's the only security we have. Tomorrow we'll be enemies again, so let's just enjoy the peace while it lasts."

"Alright," said Potter, lifting his beer-mug to his lips and sipping the lukewarm liquid. "Not as sweet as butterbeer, this stuff," he said, gazing at it. "This is my third one, though, so I guess that means I like it anyway…"

Draco nodded, feeling the same way about his whiskey. They sat in silence for a while. There was not really any need to talk.

As the evening dragged on, Draco downed three more whiskeys, and Potter consumed a fourth beer. They did not speak much, just a few words here and there. They both had other things on their minds.

Draco felt around in his pocket and pulled out six galleons, seven sickles and fourteen knuts. "Hey, Harry…" he slurred, "d'you have any muggle money? Only… I'll trade with you, and you can still show your face at Gringotts and get more, right?" The alcohol had really begun to go to his head.

"You're drunk, Malfoy," said Harry, in a slightly more sober state. "I knew your scrawny arse couldn't take that much alcohol."

"I'm not scrawny… I need somewhere to sleep," said Draco, trying to stand up, and tipping over an empty whiskey glass in the process. Then he stumbled and fell flat on his backside on the floor. Harry laughed.

"Jesus, Malfoy," he said, getting out of his seat to help him up. He took the money off the table and put it in Draco's pocket, before half carrying him over to the bar, where he more or less draped him over a stool and then paid the barkeep what they owed him.

"D'you have a room for this one?" he asked when he received his change.

"Sorry, all full. I gave you the last one," said the barkeep.

Harry sighed, glancing at the drunken boy on the stool. "I suppose I'll have to put you in my room, then," he mumbled.

"Why, aren't you trusting, Potter?" Draco drawled. "It's almost sweet. Dow do you know I won't rape you in your sleep?"

"You're in no state to rape anyone," said Harry dryly. "Come on." He pulled him off the stool and dragged him up the stairs to the room he had paid for earlier that night.

He unlocked the door and sat Draco down on the bed, before closing the door behind him and taking off his shoes. Draco kicked off his own shoes and crawled up onto the bed more properly. Presently he fell asleep. Harry sighed and sat down in the worn chair by the window, but sleep would not find him.

After half an hour, Draco got up to go to the bathroom. Harry watched him cross the room, and heard him have a drink of water from the sink, before going back to the bed. He sat down on it, staring at the ground.

"It's not fair of me to take your bed," he mumbled drunkenly. "You should sleep here, I'll take the chair."

"Just sleep, Malfoy," Harry sighed. "You're the drunker one."

"Then join me," said Draco, looking seriously up at him.

"What?" Harry looked at him in mild surprise. "Malfoy, you're piss-drunk. Sleep it off."

But Draco got to his feet and stumbled over to the chair. He leaned on the armrests and brought his face close to Harry's. Harry could smell the whiskey off his breath. Draco stayed like that for a moment, looking as though he had forgotten why he did it. But then he leaned in, and his lips brushed Harry's ever so lightly. Harry tensed up.

"Malfoy, get off," he whispered. "Go back to sleep." But he did not push him away as Draco kissed him again, more determinedly this time.

Perhaps it was some desperate want of not dying unloved that drove him. He had never asked to be loved before. He had never wanted it. And he had never asked for sympathy. Why he thought Harry could provide it, he did not know.

He pulled Harry out of the chair towards the bed, taking care that their lips did not break contact. Then he lay down and pulled Harry on top of him. When they pulled apart, they were both shaking.

"Why did you do that?" asked Harry quietly.

"You responded," Draco murmured. "And I figure if we're going to have one night when we're not enemies, we might as well make the best of it. If you regret it in the morning you can blame it on the alcohol."

"Do you make a habit of kissing your enemies?" asked Harry.

"Only the good-looking ones," Draco replied, his grey eyes shining in the semi-darkness.

"I must be out of my mind…" Harry muttered. Then he captured Draco's lips and kissed him deeply and thoroughly. He began to remove his shirt, feeling soft skin under his fingertips. Draco released a soft moan as Harry's fingers brushed over his nipple. Then, all of a sudden, Harry turned him over on his stomach. Draco yelped.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" he growled as Harry began removing his trousers. "Don't you know I'm always on top?"

"Well, a lot of things are different tonight, aren't they?" whispered Harry in his ear, and Draco heard him undo the zipper on his jeans. He closed his eyes and waited for it. He had never actually been in this position before, and he had never been with a boy.

But Harry gently kissed his shoulder blade, and then spit in his hand to lubricate himself. When he was ready to penetrate, he reached around with his right hand and grasped Draco's shaft, causing him to gasp audibly. With his left hand he grabbed hold of Draco's shoulder. They were both shaking with fear and anticipation, and when Harry made the final move to push inside, they both shuddered and groaned with pleasure.

"So ready for it… Weren't you?" gasped Harry. Draco could do nothing but nod into the pillow, and Harry gave a strained half-laugh. "Don't act so nervous, you at least have had sex before. This is my first time…"

"Not like this," Draco panted, lifting his face from the pillow for a second. "I think you're my punishment, Potter… You're… what I get for being bad, but not bad enough for hell. Punishment divine if you will… a devil sent to make my life just that little tad worse…"

"Bit dramatic… aren't you, Malfoy?" Harry licked his lips.

When they had gone at it, albeit clumsily, for a while, they both came nearly simultaneously. Trembling, Harry pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to Draco. He pulled off his jeans and tee-shirt completely, before carefully helping the other turn over on his back. They pulled the duvet over themselves, and then they just laid there in the darkness, looking at each other, suddenly so very aware of what had just happened.

Draco wanted to say something. Something nice, or smart or good, but he could not open his mouth. He could only gaze into those deep eyes, and try to stop his own from welling up with tears. Harry touched his cheek softly.

"Sleep, Malfoy," he said. "I'll leave at dawn. You need the sleep more than I do."

Draco wanted to ask him to stay. He wanted to tell him that this was the most alive he had felt in years. But he could not do it. Instead he gave a little nod, and turned over on his side. Harry snuggled up against his back and stroked his hair, and after a while, Draco fell asleep.

He awoke the next morning to find Harry gone. He had left at dawn, just like he had said. Draco was alone in the room. He got up, took a shower and got dressed. Harry had left the room key on the nightstand, and Draco brought it with him down to the bar where he handed it in to the barkeep.

"Where's the bloke who paid for the room?" asked the barkeep skeptically.

"He left this morning," Draco shrugged, and then he proceeded to leave the pub. He walked through the village towards the forest on the other side, uncertain of where he would go now.

Harry Potter had been an enemy for as long as he had known him. They had fought so many times it could not be counted. They had insulted each other, hexed each other, and only a few months ago, Harry had performed a curse which nearly killed him. But none of that had mattered the night before. With him, Draco had somehow felt safe.

But he was not safe now. As he reached the mouth of the forest, he hesitated before stepping inside. And a few steps in, there were five little POPs in the air all around him, and there stood five Death Eaters, wands raised. They had found him, and they had come to kill him. He almost laughed.

"There you are," he drawled. "I figured you'd turn up soon. Five Death Eaters just to kill little old me… I'm flattered." They all remained quiet. Draco gave a sort of half-smile and looked around at them. "Tell my mother I don't want her to cry, okay?"

One of them raised a wand, and said the words, and as a green jet of light came at him, seemingly in slow motion, the wind blew in the trees and Draco laughed. Nothing really mattered anymore.


End file.
